


The Note

by butterflybooks



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Family Dynamics, Future Fic, Kid Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-02
Updated: 2017-10-02
Packaged: 2019-01-08 07:09:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12249462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/butterflybooks/pseuds/butterflybooks
Summary: Max’s voice, when it comes, is low and terrible: “Were you ever going to tell me?”Alec lets the cupboard fall closed. “What do you mean, Max?” he asks into the quiet.





	The Note

**Author's Note:**

> Uses book canon for details, all characterisation based on the TV show.
> 
> Deals with: child abandonment, allegorical racism (as in the show)

_“Do I have a mummy as well as you and papa?”_

_“Hmm?”_

_“Because all of my friends do, and Rafe did.”_

_“Yeah, yes. You had a mother... but she couldn’t look after you-”_

-

When Alec gets home Max is already there, sitting at the table, staring at a notebook, hands buried in his hair next to his horns. It’s a familiar enough pose when he’s stressed out for a test that Alec doesn’t pause too much on his way to unpack the groceries. He’s a little puzzled as to why Max is here. He’s pretty sure that he was meant to be at a friend’s until later.

“Hey, buddy. What’re you doing here? Weren’t you going over to Kayla’s?”

Max doesn’t respond. Come to think of it, Alec can’t remember him mentioning any big tests coming up.

“Er, Max? You fancy helping your dad out with these bags or what?”

Max’s voice, when it comes, is low and terrible: “Were you ever going to tell me?”

Alec lets the cupboard fall closed. “What do you mean, Max?” he asks into the quiet.

“I mean: were you ever going to fucking tell me?”

“Hey. Language. I don’t know what you’re talking about, Max.”

Max raises his head. “ _Who could ever love it?_ ”

Alec stills completely. “Max-”

“That’s the wording, right? The note I was found with? From... whoever the hell gave birth to me.” Max is out of his chair now and staring at Alec with rising fury in his eyes.

Alec says in a low voice, “Max. I know you must be-”

“Oh? What must I be? I assume the great Alexander Lightwood is going to tell me.”

“Max, calm down-”

“Because you never told me this, did you?”

“We didn’t think you needed to know, Max. You know- you know this doesn’t change anything.”

Max sputters. “Of course it fucking changes things! You lied!”

Max’s voice has gone a little strangled, but Alec is just confused. “What do you mean, Max?”

“I asked you! I fucking asked you-” Max is on the verge of panicked tears now and Alec makes a move to go towards him, but Max moves back immediately even with the table still in between them. He takes a breath and presses his lips together before saying in a sure voice, “I asked you if... if my mother gave me up because she didn’t want me and you said- you said that that wasn’t it.”

Alec takes a sharp breath in, because he knows what Max is talking about. “Max,” he says. “When you asked that, you were _five_.”

It had been the first time Max had really shown any interest in where he came from, although they’d never hidden anything from him. He’d been colouring at the very same table, and had asked whether he’d had a mother.

And. Yeah. Alec had said that it wasn’t that she hadn’t wanted him. It was that she had wanted him raised by people who understood him. Which was true. In a sense.

“She left you somewhere where she thought people would understand and take you in, and-”

Max lets out a choked off laugh. “That’s a pretty broad interpretation, dad!”

“We didn’t want to upset you.”

“Oh, well. Good job!”

“Max, I’m really sorry that you’ve found out this way. We thought it was best-”

“You mean _you_ did.”

Alec blinks. “What?”

“ _You_ lied to me. _You_ chose not to tell me for freaking years after. And all your talk about the importance of honesty-”

“Max, I do know you’re upset, but-”

“And you turn around and do exactly the same thing as your parents did to you!”

It takes the breath out of him. “That’s not fair, Max.”

“No, you know what’s not fair? That I had to find this out from some... some fucking records and that you- you never told me!”

“Max, I get that this hurts. I am _really_ sorry that you ever had to find out this way.”

“You didn’t think it was important for me to know that my mom... that my mom was so _repulsed_ by me that she didn’t think it was possible for anyone to love me?”

Alec closes his eyes, says – because some facts are irrefutable – “Max, we love you. I love you-”

“Like that fucking matters.”

“Max-”

Max looks briefly horrified by... something. Although Alec can’t pinpoint what in the fucking _ridiculous_ screw-up he has made of this. He moves towards the door, and Alec can see that he’s practically blinded by tears.

“Max, please don’t-”

CRASH.

“-go,” Alec says to the back of the door.

-

_“Why not?” Max’s eyes went wide. “Did she not want me?”_

_“No! No. It wasn’t that. She was- she didn’t have magic or anything. So she wanted you to be raised by people who understood about that.”_

-

Magnus walks into the apartment to find Alec staring at the door. His look is helpless and reaching; Magnus instinctively moves closer to him, taking his unresisting hand with one of his own and pressing the other to his cheek.

“Alexander?”

“I- Max.”

“What about Max?”

“Did you see him leave?”

“What? Leave? No.”

“He must have portalled,” Alec mutters. “I’m going to find him.”

“Wait. Slow down. Where has Max gone?”

“I don’t _know_. That’s why I have to go and _look_ for him.” Alec moves to go past him, but Magnus stops him. “Let me by.”

“Back up several steps, darling,” Magnus says, running his hands down Alec’s arms. “What happened?”

Alec takes a few gulping breaths. “He- he- I don’t know exactly how. He- he saw a file or something about how he was found.”

Magnus frowns. “He knows that story.”

“He knows what the _note_ said.”

Magnus closes his eyes. “Oh,” is all he says.

“He was angry. He thinks we- well. He thinks I lied to him. Which I did.”

“What do you mean?”

“He asked once whether his mom hadn’t wanted him and-”

“Alec, we both decided that he didn’t need to know all the details. He’s still very young.”

“Well. He knows. I need to find him. Can you stay here? In case he comes back.”

Magnus thinks of pointing out that it would make much more sense for him to go, but given how frantic Alec looks, decides against it. The likelihood is that Max _will_ come back here before he’s found. Magnus knows his son.

“All right. I’ll try and track him from here and text you if I find anything. He won’t have gone far.”

“Thanks.” Alec rushes out the door.

Magnus closes his eyes. When he opens them, they’re gold.

-

_“And that’s you and papa.”_

_“And that’s me and papa.”_

-

Rafe is just about to call it quits on actually studying, when there’s a knocking at his door that sounds like machine gun fire. He puts his laptop on the bed and goes to the door. It’s Max. An unglamoured Max. In the corridor. Somehow, he’s not even surprised.

Max stands in shadow so Rafe can’t see his face properly. He steps out into the corridor and glances up and down the corridor, pushing at Max’s back as he does so.

“ _Max_? Did you _portal_ here?”

“Yeah,” Max replies, walking quickly into the room. “No one saw me.” Rafe shuts the door. Max’s movements don’t stop once he gets in the room – a sure sign of agitation even though Rafe can’t see his face.

“Right. Are you-” He amends his question as Max turns around. “What’s wrong?”

Max’s face _crumples_ , “I had a really bad fight with dad.” Max has always been more outwardly expressive than Rafe and his face is _wrecked_ with tears.

“With _dad_?” Max nods and brings his hands up to clutch at his hair. His breathing turns sharp and quick. Rafe shakes himself. “Wait. Sit down, breathe.” Max sits down on the bed obediently. Rafe moves to sit next to him, angles his body towards him. Max leans forward, head in hands. “What- what did you and dad fight about?”

Max takes a gulping breath. “I found this... this record of when I was... found.”

“Right,” Rafe says slowly.

“And there was- he _lied_.”

“What about, Max?”

“He said it wasn’t because my... it wasn’t because she didn’t want me.” Max sighs. “But there was a note.”

Rafe waits to see if any more is forthcoming. Max has drawn his hands down and is staring at his hands, picking at his nails.

“What did the note say, Max?”

Max doesn’t look at him. He’s still staring at his hands. “ _Who could ever love it._ ”

The way he says it, it’s not a question.

“Max...” Rafe starts, and then doesn’t know how to finish. 

“Don’t,” Max says, his voice breaking on the syllable.

“Max,” Rafe ignores him. “That’s _bullshit_. We all love you. If she couldn’t, it was only because she was- it’s _her_ loss, all right?”

Max breathes out forcefully, evidently frustrated. “It’s not- I get why she would have been... freaked out. She was probably a mundane and I’m...” he gestures to himself.

Rafe says, perhaps a little harshly, “There’s nothing _wrong_ -”

“I know, I know,” Max says, and he takes a deep breath in. He seems a little calmer, at least. “But I can see why she’d find it – whatever – pretty freaky. And... if she figured out. You know. _How_ I... happened.” Max has pulled in on himself on Rafe’s bed, as though trying to make himself as small as possible. Surely a bad sign from one of the most expansive gesturers Rafe knows.

“Max,” he says softly, although he doesn’t know what else to say. This is something he is just never, never going to get in a lot of ways.

Max waves a hand. “It’s just-” he presses the heels of his hands into his eyes and straightens up. He says softly and mostly to himself, “ _Who could ever love it?_ ”

“I-” Rafe stops, because he can’t say he knows – because he doesn’t. “I’m sorry, Max. That sucks.” Max – still covering his face with his hands – nods. “But loads of people love you.” Rafe senses that perhaps insulting Max’s birth mother is not going to go over particularly well, so he leaves off it. Even though he doesn’t really _want_ to understand. Doesn’t want to give her the benefit of the doubt on this. 

For some reason, though, that just makes Max lean forward again, head still in his hands. Rafe frowns. “What did you and dad fight about exactly?” He can’t really imagine Max and dad _fighting_. Mainly if there’s any conflict it’s because Max has done something crazy that he is – it is one of his most consistent traits – all too willing to admit to. He doesn’t know that he’s really ever seen Max _angry_ at dad. Can’t imagine it. They’ve always had this weird understanding between them, which Rafe thinks is strange because – of the two of them – Rafe is definitely more similar to dad. But maybe that’s part of it, really. Max is impulsive and reckless, but dad always knows how to give him space to work through that and the fact that they _don’t_ spark off at the same things means they hardly ever fight. Rafe doesn’t know if it’s the immortality thing, or the warlock thing, but recently Max overwhelmingly seems mostly _protective_ of dad. In a way that’s only rivalled by how fiercely both dad and papa are protective of the both of them.

Then again, he’s not sure – in actuality – if Max really is angry at him now. 

“I-” Max stops. “I was mad because I asked him whether my mom had… whether she’d abandoned me because she didn’t want me. And he never told me-” Max’s voice is  
smaller now. “Never told me about any of this.”

Rafe is quiet for a moment. “I- look, I get why you’d be mad that they never told you. But- can’t you kind of see why they didn’t?”

“I- I guess. Yeah. Obviously. But it wasn’t their…” Max sighs and trails off.

Rafe waits, and when nothing else comes, says, “When did you ask about your mom anyway?”

Max looks away. “When I was five,” he mutters.

Rafe scrunches his face up. “Max?” he says slowly. “Are you angry at dad because he didn’t tell a five-year-old that his mother didn’t want him?”

And, OK, he probably could have found a better way to phrase that.

“No,” Max says immediately. Then he sighs and hunches himself even smaller. “I guess. Kind of.”

Rafe waits.

Max groans. “I really fucked up, Rafe.”

Rafe lays a hand on his back. “I’m sure you didn’t.”

Max screws his face up again. “You didn’t hear some of the stuff I said to him. He’s going to hate me.”

Rafe suspects that that might have been the point. But Max has already told him to stop using his psych class to analyse him. It’s not his psych class, anyway. After about  
thirteen years of therapy – on and off – Rafe is pretty much an expert. Or he likes to think so, anyway.

“Come on, Max, you know that’s not true.” And Rafe does know that.

“All right, but… he _should_. I…”

“It doesn’t matter, Max.” Rafe pauses. “What did you say?”

Max is sitting straight now and rocking a little as though trying to work up enough momentum to speak. Then he says, in a rush, “I said that he’d lied to me like his  
parents did-”

“Holy _shit_ , Max.”

“-and that it didn’t matter that he loved me.”

“Well.” Rafe says after a pause. “Yeah, that’s pretty bad.”

Max groans again.

“Yeah, but hey. You know he won’t be mad at you. Or. Well, I don’t know, they might be. A bit. But they love you, so it won’t matter. And dad could never hate you.”

Max looks at him and manages half a smile. “You think?”

Rafe smiles back. “I know.”

Max rubs at his face. “Yeah. Maybe.” He pauses. “Can I stay here, tonight?”

Rafe smiles. He knows the answer to that. “Not a chance.”

Max’s mouth drops open in honest outrage and Rafe laughs a little at his expression. “It’ll only get worse if you leave it. And you should go back home.”

“I hate that you’re right all the time.”

“It’s a curse.”

Max waits a minute, then says, “It’s going to be horrible.”

“Worse the longer you leave it.” Rafe is reasonably sure that he’s gotten Max onto a fairly even keel now and is immovable on this.

“Yeah, I know,” Max says, but doesn’t move.

“Max.”

He gets up. “I really do hate you.”

“I know,” Rafe says cheerily. Then he stands up as well, putting a hand on Max’s arm. “You can come over anytime, you know?” _I’m here for you._

“Yeah. I know.” Max grins. 

“And I’m going to text papa to let him know you’re on your way back, so you definitely have to go.”

“Rafe,” Max rolls his eyes and turns to go to the door.

“Are you portalling?”

“Huh? No. I thought I’d walk.”

“Right.” Rafe pauses. “Max?” He’s aware this isn’t actually a neutral reminder in the current mood Max is in, but it is one that needs to be said. Max turns back to  
him. “Glamour?”

Max frowns, then looks down at his hands and... bursts out laughing.

Rafe rolls his eyes. He never can predict how Max is going to react to anything.

“Yeah, yeah, OK,” Max waves a hand and his blue skin shifts to brown, horns disappearing. He twists his face at Rafe in an expression that Rafe couldn’t decipher if he tried.

“It’ll be OK, Max.”

“Bye Rafe,” he says and he goes.

Rafe sighs, and then goes to locate his phone to text papa.

-

_“She made a good choice. Cos you and papa are the best.”_

_“You know we love you, right?”_

-

Magnus isn’t surprised when he receives Rafe’s text, and he certainly isn’t surprised when the door clicks open and Max shuffles in.

“Hi,” Max says, sheepish, as he comes more into the lounge area where Magnus is waiting. Max looks around. “Where’s dad?”

“On his way back,” Magnus says, getting up and walking towards Max. He doesn’t say that Alec is deliberately taking his time for several reasons, but he knows Max is  
quick enough to work it out.

Max swallows. “Where from?”

“He went out to look for you.”

“I- oh. Right.”

“Max,” Magnus says softly as he steps closer to him, and waits. Max practically throws himself towards him and Magnus catches him in a hug. It hits him sometimes, how Max’s hugs have barely changed since he was a child, but that he’s grown so much – and yet, hardly at all. He still throws his whole body forwards and lets Magnus catch him, still clings so tight. Max holds on for a long time and Magnus waits for him to step back. Eventually, he does, scrubbing at his face as he does so. His glamour falls away when he meets Magnus’ eyes and Magnus – cat eyes still showing – smiles at him. “Sit down,” he says as he walks back to the couch. Max, after a small hesitation, follows. He sits on the opposite end of the couch and stares at his hands.

Magnus clears his throat. “I’m sorry you had to find out like this, Max.”

“Yeah,” Max doesn’t look at him.

“Are you still angry that we lied to you?”

Max shakes his head. “No,” then, “But I wish you’d told me.”

“That’s fair.”

“Not- I get why dad lied when I was five,” Max rolls his eyes, although Magnus thinks it’s at himself. “But- later.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s _fine_. Like. I get why. I just-” Max lets out a breath. “I just…”

“How _did_ you find out?”

“I… heard some people talking about it at the institute. They didn’t think I could hear.”

Magnus closes his eyes. It’s not exactly public knowledge, but he can easily see how gossip might spread in this regard. But he would have thought that even  
shadowhunters would have the sense to not discuss these things in front of a child.

Oh, who is he kidding? Shadowhunters wouldn’t even see the issue.

“Do you know their names?” Magnus asks, deceptively lightly. 

Max rolls his eyes. “ _No_ , papa.”

Hmm. He’s sure he can find out.

There’s a pause.

“I _am_ sorry you had to find out like that.”

“I know. It’s OK.”

“Max. I know it isn’t.” Magnus sighs. “And it’s OK to be hurt about it.”

Max looks down for a long time and, just when Magnus is convinced he’s going to have to talk again and maybe should leave it for now anyway, he breathes out, “ _It_.”

“What?”

Max turns to stare at the wall instead of his own hands. “Who could ever love _it_.” Magnus closes his eyes and feel stupid for not realising earlier. He opens them to look at Max, who fidgets in his seat. “Not- not him… or even ‘the child’ or anything… just…”

“Yes, I know,” Magnus says.

“I know you do.”

Magnus wonders – briefly – if it would be helpful to tell the story of his own mother – something he can’t help but think of now. Max knows the broad strokes, but not the  
details. Perhaps another time, he decides. He doesn’t really want to give Max another story of warlocks being unlovable and the cause of so much pain. He shakes himself  
out of that, trying not to get drawn into his own – rather depressing – reverie.

“Mundanes…” Magnus trails off, reconsiders. “ _Mortals_ often can’t understand people who are different. I don’t know what your mother was thinking when she left you, but that… I can imagine she wanted to distance herself from you. But it was only because she didn’t understand. And _none of that,_ ” Magnus says, aware his voice is growing fiercer now. “Is your fault. And it is _not true._ ”

“I- yeah.” Max meets his eyes. “I got it, papa. Thanks.”

Magnus smiles, close-lipped, at him and reaches out to pat his shoulder. After a pause, Max says, “Is dad really angry?”

Magnus frowns. “No – why would you think-?” Then he realises. “He _was_ worried about you storming out like that and we might have to talk about that… but he- he’s not angry. Of course he’s not.”

Max looks far from comforted at that. He looks down into his lap. “He didn’t tell you, then.”

“Didn’t tell me what?”

“I- I said… some stuff. I was upset – not that that’s an excuse.”

“Max,” Magnus says, and knows that when Max screws up – for all his supposed irreverence – no one’s harder on him than Max himself is. In that regard, he is very like  
Alec.

Max lets out a harsh breath and then says, all in a rush, “I said that he’d lied to me which made him the same as _his_ parents and that it didn’t matter that he loved me because of it.”

Magnus breathes out slowly. “Well,” he says. “You certainly know how to go for the jugular, Max.”

Max grimaces.

“You get that from me,” Magnus says, not without a hint of pride. Max half laughs. “But your dad didn’t deserve that.”

Max looks shame-faced. “I know.”

“But you know he’s not angry at you.”

“I know.”

“Even if you want him to be.”

“Yeah.”

“It’s very irritating, I know.”

Max rolls his eyes.

“Max,” Magnus says, and waits for him to look at him. “Don’t beat yourself up too much, OK? You were upset. You said some inadvisable things. Everyone does it.”

Max rubs the back of his neck, stares at a spot on the sofa, says, “I love you.”

Magnus smiles at the display. “I love you too, Max.” He glances down at his phone, sees a message from Alec: _Outside, let me know when’s good to come in?_

He rolls his eyes. “Go and let your dad in, would you? He’s being an idiot.”

Max looks at Magnus, Magnus presses his lips together and raises his eyebrows, not letting him off the hook for this one, and waits for him to go to the door.

He watches as Alec, who is pacing around outside, turns to find Max and before either of them can get any words in, Alec’s gathered Max up in his arms. Max clings back  
just as fiercely; Magnus can just about make out both of them apologising and a few ‘I love you’s thrown in there, but they mainly just keep hold of each other, shutting out the rest of the world.

Magnus smiles and walks past the two of them. He can’t imagine either of them letting go of the other for a little while. He briefly rests his hand on Max’s shoulder and says, to Alec, “I’ll make dinner.”

-

_“Yep! Look, I drew you a picture.”_

_“Thanks Max. It’s great.”_

_“It’s you and papa and Rafe and me.”_

-

Max is sitting on his floor, feeling really fucking drained. He reckons he’s done about a year’s worth of crying in one day. He’s hit the point where he’s just letting it wash  
over him. There’s a knock on his door. It’s his dad. He’s always been able to tell.

“Yeah?”

His dad pushes the door a little but doesn’t step inside just yet. “Can I come in?”

As though Max could say no to anything from him at the moment. The thing is, Max knows if he said no his dad would go away and he wouldn’t have to deal with it all. But he feels bad enough already. He’s not stupid. He knows they’re OK. He’d leaned into his dad on the couch as papa had moved around the kitchen making dinner. Papa hadn’t even used magic, which was clearly in deference to his dad – who would have been doing it, because he nearly always does, only Max had clearly managed to emotionally exhaust everyone in his family. But they hadn’t really talked. Not really. Not past the first apologies and _thank the angel you’re all rights._

Max had kind of hoped they weren’t going to have to. But, really, he’d known his dad would probably insist upon it.

“Yeah, yeah, come in.”

His dad does, sits on the bed and does an awkward hand clap in front of his body, before sighing and saying, “I wanted to say that I’m sorry-”

“-Dad, you seriously don’t need to. I get it.”

His dad holds up a hand. “I’m _sorry_ , Max,” Max rolls his eyes and gets a _look_ for it. “I don’t know what the best thing to do in that situation was, but I know I could have  
handled it better.”

“I don’t know that you could,” Max mutters. “There’s not much to be said for it, however I found out.”

“Yeah, I know. Well. I _don’t_ know, but-”

“Yeah, dad, I get it.”

“Papa said he talked to you about it.”

Max shrugs.

“You know you can always talk – to either of us – about anything.”

“Yeah,” Max tries not to roll his eyes at the very repetitive speech that he’s been receiving his entire life. Then feels a bit of a brat for wanting to roll his eyes at consistent emotional support. “And I appreciate it, really. I was just-” Max sighs. “I’m sorry for going off on you about it.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“And I’m sorry for what I said.”

“Max.”

“I was stupid. I didn’t _mean_ it. Any of it. Well. I _was_ mad about not being told, but… the rest of it…”

“Max, seriously, don’t worry about it. You’re forgiven. Seriously.”

And Max knows that. Because his dad would probably forgive him no matter _what_ he did, but he lets it go.

His dad takes a breath. “Max, I know… I can imagine that it sucks to know that your mom struggled with you, but you have to know that we never did. We always loved you  
– from the moment we found you. I-” Max tries to stop tearing up because he has cried _enough_ today, goddammit. His dad smiles and shakes his head, lost in memory. “I still remember how small you were… And we brought you home, because it just felt _right_. I don’t know… honestly, I don’t know how to feel about any of it. Because – in the most incredibly selfish way – I’m just glad you came into our lives at all.”

Max shrugs. “Reckon I’m OK with that.”

His dad smiles, corners of his eyes creasing up. “Good of you.”

Max shrugs again. “I aim to please.”

His dad snorts and rolls his eyes.

“Bet I was the best baby too.”

His dad – to his surprise – does laugh at that, although in a way that Max can tell has nothing to do with Max’s original intention. “Oh, Max,” he says, and he’s grinning now, his eyes lost in the past. “You were an actual nightmare as a baby.”

Max can feel his expression morph into what is – mostly – mock outrage.

Dad starts laughing all over again at his expression. “You had colic about three times in the first year. You _wouldn’t_ sleep. Papa had this ridiculously long song he had to sing to you before you would even deign to sleep in the evenings, which meant that when he wasn’t home you just used to _cry _. And I just-” he takes a deep breath. “I just loved you more than I needed to breathe.”__

__Max feels his eyes filling with tears again and fuck, he’s done enough of this today. “Dad-” he starts. _Please stop. I can’t take this.__ _

___Keep going._ _ _

__Dad smiles at him and, like he knows what he’s thinking continues, in a low voice, “From the first time I held you, Max, it was like I’d been waiting for you. You- you were put in my arms and you stopped crying-”_ _

__Max can’t help himself. “Thought you said I wouldn’t do that.”_ _

__There’s a pause. “Max.”_ _

__“Yeah?”_ _

__“Shut up.”_ _

__Max breathes out a laugh and his dad smiles and shakes his head, mock-exasperated as he carries on, “Anyway, _before_ you were such a smart-ass, I just _knew_ you were mine. And it was like- I’d always had these… these categories. You know. For people I cared about. Family at the top of my priorities. But you weren’t- you just dropped into my life and created a whole new category all of your own.” He shakes his head, rubbing at his neck in a familiar gesture. Max is _really_ trying not to cry, but he can’t breathe. “Rafe did the same. You redefined what love is for me, Max, and if you ever doubt it-”_ _

__“I _don’t_ -” Max chokes out._ _

__His dad just looks at him. When he looks at him, Max always feels pinned to the spot. “If you _ever_ doubt it,” he shrugs. “Just look into my memories. You’ll find it there.”_ _

__He says it like it’s a simple thing and Max shakes his head immediately. “You don’t- you don’t like that kind of magic.” _He_ doesn’t like that kind of magic. Papa had sat him down and given him _several_ talks on the importance of responsibility and privacy and respecting people. And how - papa had smirked when he’d said it and Max hadn’t got the joke until a few years later on movie night – ‘with great power comes great responsibility’. And Max knows that whilst dad is hardly unfamiliar with magic, he is a little wary of the potential for people interfering with anyone’s mind._ _

__“I love you, Max,” he says, as though that answers every doubt. “If you need it-”_ _

__“I don’t,” Max says and it is – he realises after he’s said it – perfectly true. “I don’t need it. I _know_. And it does- it does matter.”_ _

__“I know, Max.” He stands and holds out his arms. “Come here.”_ _

__Max stands up and walks into his dad’s arms. He smells like he always does. Sandalwood – like papa – but different soap, with that bit that just makes Max feel _warm_ for no reason. Well. One reason. His dad does give the best hugs. That’s just a fact – albeit one that Max would never normally admit to now. But maybe he’s feeling small today, because he does cling on quite a bit longer than he normally does._ _

__When he finally does let go, his dad lets him step back and smiles at him. “Good night, Max.”_ _

__“Night, dad.”_ _

__Max watches as his dad leaves and does feel _exhausted_ with it all, climbs into bed, turns it over in his head. _Who could ever love it?__ _

__It sucks, but he does get it. How his mom might have felt that way. He might not fully be able to wrap his head around how to feel about it all – his conception, his mom, but he figures he’s got time. And people to talk about it with._ _

___Who could ever love it?_ _ _

__It sucks. But it is a question. It has an answer. It has a lot of answers, really._ _

__-_ _

_“We look very happy.”_

_“We are.”_

**Author's Note:**

> my tumblr - mightaswellbenicetopeople.tumblr.com


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